


Greed: A Pointed Lesson

by wickednotevil



Series: Camelot sex!tree [1]
Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Bloodplay, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Inanimate Object Porn, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-04
Updated: 2009-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickednotevil/pseuds/wickednotevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt 'Uther/Merlin/Arthur- Sword porn, Excalibur'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greed: A Pointed Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Camelot sex!tree, which was started a long time ago at a silly time of morning. But in summary- Camelot is full of sex-obsessed perverts, Uther tops all, and despite it all Arthur and Merlin are horribly cute together. I only wish I could link you to the original inspiration for this in its kinky fivesome porn glory.

_  
**Greed: A Pointed Lesson**   
_

 

Uther has his arms around Arthur as he unsheathes Excalibur and points it at Merlin’s naked form.

 

He’s kneeling on the floor of the armoury now, after some judicious _persuasion_ on Uther’s part. Forced to strip in front of the two Pendragon men, Merlin tried to appeal to Arthur silently with pleading eyes until he realised Arthur was not running under his own steam any more.

‘One of my better plans,’ Uther thinks to himself.

 

He’d heard of course about how the sword wasn’t meant for him. It was _Arthur’s_. Interfering bloody dragon.

But he’d got round that, mind working furiously for a way to subvert that power for his own gain even as Gaius told him of the dire future if he wielded the little warlock’s masterpiece.

‘ _Use Arthur. A puppet for your desires. Show him his place_ ,’ an insidious voice had whispered.

 

So here he stands, forcing Arthur to do all the things he wants to do to Merlin with the sword; Gaius had given him a potion that would make Arthur his plaything for the afternoon.

 

(“It will make his body biddable, sire, but not his mind,” Gaius had warned.

As if that mattered.

“I can work on his mind. It’s his body that interests me right now.”)

 

The light catches the edges of the blade; metal sharp enough to rend flesh from bone, soul from body, glints in the autumn sun drifting through the windows.

 

Merlin tries not to move, clamps down on the urge to swallow as Uther guides Arthur’s hands on Excalibur and presses it firmly against his neck. It pricks the skin, right where his pulse is beating frantically so close to the surface, and a small drop of blood wells over the point and travels up, painting the blade metallic red with blood purposely spilt.

Uther’s eyes avidly watch the progress of the crimson trickle and he wraps his arms further around his son to exert the tiniest pressure to cause the sword to move down the line of Merlin’s throat, scraping over tendons and coming to rest over his collarbone.

 

In the draft-filled room, shivering with a mix of cold and delicious fear, Uther touches him with Excalibur. Using Arthur as a medium he cuts him, then does it again- making cascading droplets of blood fall down over his stomach.

 

Using the hilt Uther ensures Merlin is held on the cusp of arousal, brushing it over his dick, the cold and unfamiliar sensation of the moulded metal causing Merlin to harden further.

 

Uther is busy watching Merlin’s blood glide a path down his chest, watching vital fluid of brightest crimson trickle over delicate white skin, but Arthur, trapped as he is in an obedient haze sees the shivers that run through Merlin’s pale form as the sword makes another pass at his exposed skin.

His clear blue eyes catch with Merlin’s and he reads the reluctant shameful pleasure Merlin is taking in this, and after that he doesn't need a potion to want to see his manservant writhing in pleasure at the end of his blade.

 

The king moves forwards, letting Arthur free from his embrace to stand like a marionette with his strings cut, pulling Merlin to his feet and catching the tortured lips with his own in a melting kiss that tastes of fear and the iron tang of blood.

 

Uther’s gloved hands drop to Merlin’s abused chest, starting low at his navel and smearing the blood so each covered finger painted up trails of red. The gloves slide easier as Uther’s hands travel further up, the slick sound of leather wet with claret gore becoming more pronounced as a hand made it to his throat and gripped tightly.

 

Merlin’s eyes are wide, searching for a clue as to Uther’s intentions even as his face draws closer, before closing in on his neck, wrapping his lips round the first incision and sucking.

 

Merlin nearly comes on the spot.

 

Both gloved hands move at his unmeant groan - one making passes over a nipple teasing it into painful hardness, and the other sliding round his waist and down, easily slipping between the cheeks of his buttocks and pressing inexorably when they reach his hole. The first gloved finger, made so much wider inside him by the presence of a thin piece of fabric, slides inside him with horrifying ease.

 

‘My blood,’ he thinks to himself, almost hysterically. ‘It’s my blood that’s making Uther’s gloves so slippery. That’s my blood, that’s-‘

 

A bare hand touches his arm, warm and reassuring, light enough for him to barely notice, except that he knows where both Uther’s hands are, that's the problem, which means this is-

 

“Arthur.”

 

Uther lifts his head at that, seeing Arthur standing there to the side, and almost rolls his eyes.

“It seems nothing can keep you two apart. Under the circumstances so… _touching_.”

 

Uther’s emphasis on that word sends a shiver of pure apprehension down Merlin’s spine. This will not end well.

 

“Come here, son.” Uther holds out an imperious hand to Arthur, and draws him in close once it is reluctantly taken. He curls Arthur around himself; placing him within the confines of his solid arms and pulling his head back so it rests on his shoulder and he can no longer look at Merlin. “You want to touch him, don’t you? And you can, but tonight your climax is mine.”

 

Uther captures one of Arthur hands in his own, gloves leaving stains of red on golden skin that shine with what little light the windows provide, and brings it round Merlin’s back to where his other is still buried inside him.

 

“Too dry? You can use his blood to ease the way, or his saliva. Which would you prefer?” he moves Arthur’s hand to the still wet trails of blood outlined on Merlin’s chest, wetting them in the sticky substance, before bringing them up to trace Merlin’s mouth. His eyes are turning autumnal in their desire, his lips falling open to admit Arthur with a willingness Uther notes with a narrowed gaze.

 

Uther steps back to admire the pretty picture they make as Arthur forgets his resistance and drives his fingers inside Merlin’s shaking body with abandon.

 

Arthur’s slick fingers burrow into Merlin driving out gasping noises of pleasure at the end of his twisting hands. His chest brushes against the cuts littering Merlin’s front and Merlin bucks up into him, growing harder against his thigh and choking off a plea.

 

Uther picks up Excalibur from the floor where it fell earlier, and goes back to pull Merlin into his arms. The touch of cold iron against the boys’ skin makes them jump,  driving Merlin’s desire higher…his climax spirals up and comes crashing back down over him as Uther pushes Excalibur’s hilt just inside, Merlin’s orgasm already overtaking him.

 

“Is this what you meant by an evil purpose?” Merlin hears whispered in his ear as he bucks into Arthur’s straining form and gives voice to his pleasure with a scream.

 

 

The End

 

         


End file.
